


On Battlefields, We Meet Again

by gothclark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-06
Updated: 2010-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothclark/pseuds/gothclark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War changes you. What does Harry need to do to survive war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Battlefields, We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to lola and roses for their beta help.  
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Not mine, just playing.  
> Warnings: Takes place after HBP

**1\. On battlefields we meet again**

 

On the battlefield there wasn't room for sympathy. You pointed your wand, shouted a curse and moved on to the next one.

It was quiet now. The only sounds to be heard were the moans of the wounded and the cries of the dying. He didn't want to be here, but he was looking for somebody specific. He knew she'd fallen someplace close by, because he remembered distinctly seeing her plummet to the ground from so high up there was no way she'd survived, but he had to know for sure. He had to find her.

Everything was blood and dirt, and a raindrop splattered on his cheek. Draco looked up to the ominous, black clouds. He hadn't even realized how dark it had become.

He stepped over a hand buried in the soil as a few more drops splashed down. His cloak had survived the fifteen-hour broom ride and air battle, though it had been singed on one end when a stray curse had shot past him, barely missing his torso.

He didn't even bother lifting his hood as the few droplets turned into a sudden downpour. In seconds his long blond hair was plastered to his forehead and cheeks. Then he heard it. The pitiful sound was coming from just a few hundred feet ahead. As he got closer, he wondered how he'd missed the cries before. They seemed so loud.

Draco saw her hair first then her head. But the cries were not from her. They were from a Death Eater. Body and limbs a tangled mess, there was no way whoever was under all that blood was getting up again. Draco did the only thing he could do; he bent near the crumpled body and watched as life ebbed from the dark eyes. He'd become fascinated with watching death take others. His gray eyes fixed on the other man's eyes, and that was when he realized whose eyes he was staring into.

"Draco..." A pale bloodstained hand reached out. Horror-struck, Draco fell away in an attempt to avoid his touch. The ground had already turned to mud and Draco's hands squelched in the sucking mire. It was soft here and scorched from battle. He scrambled to get away from his father's grasp. The ring on Lucius' finger glinted though there was no sun.

"It's over." Draco wanted to shout but all he could manage was a strangled cry. Accusing eyes glared at him.

"It will never be over," Lucius Malfoy uttered on his dying breath.

Draco tore his eyes away. It wasn't his father anymore. That was nothing but a corpse. He crawled across the sodden earth to the tangle of hair and the dark, twisted robes. She lay flat on her back and as he approached her, the look of terror in her eyes as she spotted him sent waves of pleasure coursing through him.

"Granger," he whispered. She could not move. How he'd longed for this moment and how he'd wished that one day it would come to this.

He held his wand at the ready. Her eyes were wild, but she could not move a muscle. Draco pointed the wand at her chest and smirked.

"Finite Incantatem," he muttered.

Granger sat bolt upright, screams torn from her throat. He was too weary now to stop her. Others would hear but Draco did not care. He just wanted this whole mess to end. He wanted a hot bath and a warm soft bed. The shouts were irritating.

Draco pulled Granger in close to his chest and covered her mouth with his free hand. That seemed to snap her out of it and Granger yanked his hand from her mouth. She gulped deep breaths and nodded as though to say she understood.

It truly was over when they looked up into the sky and the darkness was no longer from storm clouds but hundreds of wizards.

With her head resting on his chest and her hair tangled around his hand, they waited silently for the others.

The wizards and witches landed all around them, shouting curses with no intent. Granger clutched him close. Her hair smelled of ashes and dirt.

"Drop your wand, Malfoy," a familiar voice shouted. Draco threw his wand to the ground instantly, staring up as the crowd of dark figures parted and Harry Potter stepped forward, face smudged with soot and robes smeared with blood. The murmurs died down to hushed voices.

"I surrender," Draco cried out to be sure he was heard. He could feel Granger trying to turn her head to look up at him. Her hands clawed wildly at his cloak.

"Then you admit to your crimes," a voice in the crowd shouted. Others joined the first voice until they drowned out anything Draco would have said.

Potter raised his hands up to silence them.

"He's to be taken into custody and put to trial," he yelled.

"NO!" Granger spoke out for the first time since Draco had found her.

Potter ignored her outcry and motioned for the two wizards that flanked him to seize their captive. One of them was Ron Weasley and the other Neville Longbottom. They descended on Draco and others pulled Granger away, almost tossing her aside as she fought to stay by Draco's side.

"You're making a big mistake," she cried out as they dragged her away. Draco stared up at his two captors but did not fight when they pulled him roughly to his feet.

"There's a cell in Azkaban with your name on it, Malfoy," Potter growled when they dragged Draco past him. Their eyes locked and Draco said nothing. Beyond them all he could see that a few wizards had clustered around the body of his father. One of them was plucking the ring from his dead finger. Draco looked toward the direction they had dragged Granger. He turned back to find Potter holding Draco's wand up, the wand that had chosen Draco so long ago in another time when things had been so much simpler.

Potter held it up, smirked, and snapped it in half as if it were dried kindling.

"Take him away," he said coldly.

 

**2\. The war has just begun**

The trial had been short, lasting barely ten minutes. It was just long enough for the Ministry to read the charges and sentence him to life. Since Potter had destroyed Draco's wand upon capturing him, there was no way to prove what the last spell cast had been, but they hadn't brought him to Azkaban as Potter had promised. Instead they had brought him here.

The small room was nothing more than four walls, a stone floor and a low ceiling. There were no windows and no doors. The only illumination in the room was a ball of light that hovered in one corner of the ceiling. A different person would Apparate into the room with a small tray of food once a day. In one corner stood a grimy toilet that looked as though it had not been cleaned in years. He had no privacy at all. They'd taken all his clothes and given him a pair of threadbare prison garments to change into. The room was cold and damp, and he'd paced until he could pace no more. He'd lost all track of time. He had no clue how long he'd been there. Without a window to shine some light into his world, there was no telling how many months had passed.

Now he sat against wall in a corner legs spread out, arms at his side. There was nothing else to do but sleep and wait. There was loads of time to think on everything that Draco had ever done. The memory of his first day at Hogwarts, and the one of his mother straightening his tie as she saw him off on the Hogwarts express that day were his favorites to recall. He steered clear of the negative memories.

A loud pop signalled that somebody had Apparated in. Draco looked up but he had never seen the man before. It was someone new each time. He was probably one of Potter's minions. There were so many who had followed Potter into battle against the Dark Lord.

The slim man wore dark robes and had short black hair with a nasty looking scar down one side of his round face. He bent low, taking care to keep his narrowed eyes on Draco and set a tray down on the floor. With a loud pop he was gone.

Draco didn't even bother to get up. He was starved. On the tray sat a bowl and a goblet. He crawled across the floor the few feet to the tray and lay flat on his stomach. Propped up on his elbow he dipped his fingers into the mess that passed for porridge and scooped it into his mouth. They had never provided any utensils. It tasted like paste, but it was all he'd eaten since being tossed into this room.

Draco stopped and stared down at the tray. There was something new on it. It looked like a sweet with a purple wrapper around it. He had to be imagining this. In all the time he'd been in this room, every tray had remained the same: a bowl of pasty tasting porridge, and a glass of water. Draco hesitantly looked round the room as though somebody would suddenly appear to snatch the sweet from him. When nothing happened, he gingerly picked it up. He swallowed the lump of meal that had stuck in his throat and took a sip from the water.

He stared at the packet, turning it over to find his family crest on the other side. His mother must have sent it. She hadn't even been at the trial and all attempts to speak with her had gone unnoticed. But he knew she was alive.

Draco sat up and twirled the wrapper off the sweet. It was a round white hard piece of candy, but that was not been what caught his eye. There was writing on the inside of the wrapper.

His heart sped up. He flattened the wrinkled piece of parchment and read.

_Draco_

You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Please do your murdered father and me a favour and eat this sweet. It is laced with fast-acting poison and you shall be dead almost as soon as you have swallowed it.

NM

Draco stared down at the note, hardly believing his eyes. He'd hoped against all hope that his own mother would still be there for him. There was no mistaking this note. Draco buried his face in his hands, dropping the note and the sweet to the floor. The poisoned candy rolled down the slight incline and came to a stop a few feet away. Draco looked at it through his shaking, bone-thin fingers. It would be easy to just end his suffering. After all, there was nothing left to live for.

He stared unblinking at the death-pill. He was so tired and it had been so long. What must it have taken for his mother to smuggle that tiny package onto his tray? Or perhaps Potter had allowed it through, knowing what it was and hoping his enemy would do as the instruction bid. That was probably closest to the truth. The look of hatred on Potter's face at the trial was etched into Draco's memory. It would be a blessing to do as his mother asked. He'd never disobeyed any of her requests.

Draco leaned forward and reached for the piece of candy. A loud pop startled him. He blinked as a foot wearing a black sneaker trod on the candy. Draco looked up to the black robes and dark trousers until he had to crane his neck to see that it was Potter staring down at him. His lips were pinched and his eyes cold.

"I see you got your mum's little gift," said Potter. He bent and scooped the sweet in his hand, also picking up the wrapper with the note. Potter glanced at it briefly then tucked both into the pocket of his trousers. "I'll not make it that easy for you, Malfoy."

He seemed about to leave, then paused and stared down at the food tray. Draco was sure he caught a moment of pity in Potter's eyes. Bile rose in Draco's throat.

"Save your pity for others, Potter," Draco spat, venomously.

Potter glared and then picked the tray up in his hands. He pulled the note that Draco's mum had sent from his pocket and dropped it to the ground. The glass of barely touched water spilt everywhere and Draco watched as the water splashed to the dirty, stone floor.

"A reminder of just how little you have left," said Potter. A moment later, he Apparated out of the room, tray and all.

Draco stared down at the pool of water, his throat suddenly parched. His stomach rumbled. He barely hesitated as he leaned down, shut his eyes tight, and licked at what was left.

Abruptly the light was extinguished. It seemed like an eternity before it came back on and food was brought to him again. By then, Draco knew what true hunger was.

 

**3\. Dependency**

The routine wasn't the hardest part of Draco's days. He didn't mind that he knew just when he'd be fed or when the light would go off and on. The hardest part was the lack of human contact. His jailers never talked to him. They Apparated into the room, set down the food tray, then left him alone to eat. They Apparated into the room, took the food tray, and were gone with not one word to him. He was allowed only one meal per day now. No doubt that had been Potter's order.

A few days ago, Draco had made the mistake of asking what day it was. He never made that error again. He still had bruises from the kicks to his body.

It was a routine that Draco wished would end. Some days he wished he'd had more time to swallow the poisoned sweet his mother had sent.

The one thing he did have was a lot of time to think on his life. It hadn't been a long life and he really hadn't accomplished much. His time at Hogwarts, if Draco were honest with himself, was not very distinguished. His memories were mostly not happy, particularly those of his sixth year. He thought he'd known real fear then, but those days paled in comparison to the months that followed and the war that erupted all around them.

Now, here he was, condemned by the Wizarding world. He'd probably never see the outside world again.

Draco sat up in the darkness. He wasn't really sure how much time had passed since he'd first been brought here. He'd not yet been told anything about what was happening beyond the four walls he lived in.

There were days when Draco would cry at the loss of magic. He hungered to wave his wand and manipulate it to his heart's desire, but that was something else lost to him.

Draco lifted his arm to block the sudden illumination that had appeared in the corner of the room. Once his eyes adjusted to the lights, he pushed himself up to a standing position, arms aching and chest hurting. He leaned heavily against the wall, head bowed low. His day was just beginning.

Draco had only moments to use the toilet before somebody would Apparate in with his meal. He barely had the will to drag himself over. Once he made it there, he quickly took care of his urgent needs. It was just moments after he'd yanked up his shorts that he heard the loud pop fill the room. Draco didn't bother to turn round. He never knew the person and they never stayed long enough for him to bother even a cursory acknowledgement of any sort.

He stepped away from the toilet, leaned against the wall, lowered his head, and waited. The sound of the tray being set down echoed in the small space. When he didn't hear the immediate pop of Disapparation, Draco slowly turned his head without lifting it. Granger stood almost right behind him. Her pale hand was covering her mouth. A sharp intake of breath issued from her.

"Merlin, what have they done to you?" she whispered.

The horror in her voice filled Draco with dread. He quickly turned away from her and stared at the wall, mentally wishing her away. When she touched his shoulder, he cringed. He slid along the wall, desperate to be as far from her as the room allowed.

"Don't," Draco mumbled. His throat ached and his voice was hoarse from disuse. He reached a corner of the room and stopped, sliding down the wall. Draco pulled his legs in tight against his chest, trying desperately to be as small as possible.

"I won't harm you," Granger said. Draco refused to look up. He was sure there would be a look of pity in her eyes, and he did not want to see it. She stood in the middle of the room, arms at her side. Slowly she took two slow steps in his direction. Her wand was out before Draco had even realised she'd reached for it.

Draco watched her cautiously as she waved her wand. In an instant he and his clothes were clean. She gestured in the direction of the food tray.

"Please, eat. Your food is getting cold," she said softly.

Draco stood vigilantly watching Granger as he hesitantly moved toward the tray of food. Sure enough, there was heat rising from what seemed to be a bowl of soup. Granger forgotten, Draco fell down by the food tray and snatched up the spoon she'd provided, hungrily gobbling up the warm soup. He didn't lift his head until the bowl had been emptied. When he looked up at Granger, she still stood on the other side of the room. She barely managed to hide her look of shock at his behaviour.

Draco picked up the still warm bread roll and tore it in two, eagerly stuffing one half into his mouth. He picked up the glass of pumpkin juice and swallowed most of it down in one go.

"Thank you," he said with a sigh. He'd never had a civil conversation with Granger in his life yet here he was, thanking her for her kindness. Many nights he'd though back to that moment on the battlefield and what had transpired.

Draco finished the bread and juice and slid back to sit against the wall, closing his eyes. It was the best meal he'd had in ages. Granger was at his side in one motion, kneeling before him. Draco cringed at the sudden movement, but when she made no other motion to come any closer, he relaxed somewhat.

Draco stared up into her big brown eyes. They were wide and moist.

"No, thank you," she finally said after watching him in silence. "I never had the chance to thank you for saving my life." She leaned in closer and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Draco goggled at her, unsure how to react to this sudden show of affection, particularly as it was coming from the one source he'd never expected. Granger and he had never been on good terms.

When she pulled back and continued to stare down at him, Draco felt unsure of how to react. She stayed, kneeling beside him until she reached out with one hand and touched his cheek. Draco leaned into the caress, gladly accepting a touch that wasn't brutality.

"The war is over," she finally said. "Our side won." She stood and her robes swirled round her legs. Draco stared down at her muddy shoes stupidly wondering how she'd got them so dirty. He didn't think to ask any questions until she'd Disapparated from the room. By then it was too late.

He reached up to touch the cheek that Granger had touched just moments before, closing his eyes and remembering. It could be a long while before anyone touched him that way again.

 

**4\. Never A Rescuer**

It had been days since his last meal. He wasn't really sure how many, but nobody had come to feed him since Hermione Granger had last visited. The room had remained dark the whole time. Draco sat huddled in a corner, shivering. His stomach growled in protest, and he clutched at it desperately. He'd already screamed himself hoarse. He'd already begged at thin air. He'd already done so many things he never thought he'd do.

Granger's last words had been that the war was over. Draco had had plenty of time to contemplate what that meant. He'd hoped against hope that it would mean a better life for him. He'd half convinced himself that his situation was all Potter's doing. Draco had imagined all kinds of reasons why Potter would have him locked up and treated as less than an animal. Hatred for the Malfoy name had been on the top of the list, most specifically hatred for Draco. They'd never got along. From the start it had been a passionate hatred on both their parts.

Draco lifted his trembling hand to his mouth and started to gnaw on his fingernail. He'd been chewing them for a while now. There was barely anything left to chew as he'd already bit them down to the skin. It didn't help to stave the hunger, but it gave him something to do. It gave him purpose.

Overcome with exhaustion, he lay down, and closed his eyes, curling into a ball. He'd resigned himself to the fact that most likely he would die here, forgotten. His throat closed up on that thought as he drifted off to sleep, fully expecting that he'd never awaken.

He did wake up.

The sound of muffled voices woke him. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer lying on a hard floor. The second thing he noticed was that he was not cold.

Draco opened his eyes to find his surrounding had changed considerably since the last time he'd been awake. He was in a room, lying on a warm bed and he was covered with soft bed sheets. He shifted and slowly rolled over onto his back. He also noted that he was still in his tatty prison garments. Not only did the room have a window with a slightly open dark blue curtain, but it had a door and the door was ajar. There was light streaming in through the window. It had to be sunlight. There was nothing else it could have been.

Draco's heart started to pound in his chest. Could he actually be out of that horrible place? Was this real or just an illusion? Had he finally gone completely mad?

"This isn't up for debate," he clearly heard just outside the door, followed by a loud banging noise that made Draco jump. The door of the room slowly creaked open and Draco caught a glimpse of Potter standing with his arms in the air talking to somebody that Draco could not see.

"You're the only one who can protect him," Draco heard Granger's voice reply. Potter vanished from view to be replaced by a very bedraggled Granger. Draco watched as the person who had last shown him a bit of kindness closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation, crossing her arms. She looked to be at the end of her rope. Considering she was dealing with Potter, Draco didn't find this at all hard to believe.

"I can't even believe it was you," Potter replied. "He's done something to you, Hermione."

"The war is over, Harry. There was no reason..." Granger's eyes had drifted and she stopped speaking when her gaze locked with Draco's. Draco swallowed hard and hunched down in the bed, dismayed at the fear that coursed through him. There was a clatter and then Granger was entering the room, holding a tray of food. She set it down on a low table at the foot of the bed and picked up a glass.

Potter stood, leaning on the doorjamb, arms crossed. He glared when Draco glanced his way. There was nothing but contempt in his eyes. Draco lowered his gaze and concentrated on Granger instead. There was obviously something crucial going on here that Draco needed to uncover.

"We're not finished talking about this," Potter said crossly. Granger ignored Potter and handed the glass of pumpkin juice to Draco.

"Here, drink this," she said softly. Draco accepted the glass without a word. "Sip it," she added as Draco brought the glass to his lips. He did as instructed. Granger picked up a plate of sandwiches and set it down on the bed beside Draco. She sat down on the bed far enough away to give Draco room to maneuver. His hands were shaking and he tried desperately to steady them.

Granger took the now empty glass from Draco and turned to set it back down on the tray. He hesitantly reached for a sandwich, making a point of ignoring the derisive snort that came from Potter. He did however catch Granger's cutting glare when she looked in Potter's direction.

Granger turned away from Potter and watched Draco. Unable to control himself, Draco shoved the food in his mouth, hungrily wolfing it down. He was so starved at that moment and he cared not one shred for dignity. He kept his eyes lowered and his shoulders hunched. He tried to tell himself to slow down, that there was time to eat and that he wasn't in that place any longer.

Draco almost screamed when Granger reached out to touch his arm.

"It's alright, Malfoy," she said gently. He looked up at her, mortification burning across his cheeks. "You're safe. Nobody is going to take your food from you before you've eaten it."

Draco fought the sting of tears. It was just more humiliation heaped on top of everything that had happened to him since that day on the battlefield. He wasn't even sure how much time had passed. He only knew that it felt like he'd lived several lifetimes.

He swiped at his eyes with his bare arm, desperately choking back the anguish he felt. His loss of dignity was the last thing on his mind. His whole body was shaking now and he broke down into sobs, hiding his face in his arms.

After a while, the tears finally subsided and Draco could lift his head again. He looked up at Granger through his dirty strands of hair.

"Thank you," Draco whispered. His voice was hoarse from disuse and his throat hurt from crying. Granger reached out with her hand and set it on top of Draco's own trembling hand. She gripped him gently.

"There's a bathroom right past that door." She pointed to their left, though Draco didn't bother to look up. "You can bathe and change." at these words she looked up in the direction of the doorway. Draco didn't look up. He didn't want to see the look in Potter's eyes. "I'm sure Harry has something that will fit you." She stood and released her grip on Draco's hand.

Draco watched as Granger and Potter left the room. They were already arguing before the door had closed.

Draco had stuffed two more of the sandwiches into his mouth before the door opened again. He looked up expectantly, and then looked away when Potter entered the room and closed the door behind him. The last bit of bread and ham caught in his throat and Draco gagged, smacking himself on the chest to dislodge it. He swallowed hard and flinched when Potter crossed the room to pick up the tray.

"Where... where am I?" Draco managed to say. His voice sounded pathetic and he tried to ignore the glare Potter shot his way.

"You're in my home," Potter barked with bitterness.

Draco blanched at the reply. That would have been his last guess. Actually, it wouldn't have been a guess at all. "Why...?"

"Because Hermione sprang you from Azkaban," Potter scowled at him. The sour expression on his face made him look ugly.

Potter set the tray back down.

"I..."

Potter was suddenly in Draco's face, eye flashing angrily. "Shut up! Just shut up!" he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth, hitting Draco on the cheek. Draco froze in place somehow more terrified than he'd ever felt in his short life. "You don't get to talk. You don't get to move. Understand me?" Potter lowered his voice. His tone had grown dangerous. The scar on his forehead stood out a livid red.

Draco blinked owlishly and swallowed hard, barely able to nod. Then Potter seemed to deflate and he fell back, sitting down on the bed. He yanked off his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes, exhaustion in every movement.

Draco pulled his legs up tight to his body and sat silently. He'd gone to sleep ready for death and woken up in this mad world.

 

**5\. Darker Than You**

The water felt like heaven on his parched skin. Draco eased into the hot bath and sighed. That first night, he had been so filthy that he had needed to shower first before he could actually bathe. He hated showers and always had, but at that moment anything was welcome. No matter how many times Draco bathed, he couldn't remove the feeling of that place from his skin.

It had been almost two weeks since Granger had left him with Potter. He and Potter hadn't said more than two words to each other and that suited Draco just fine. He would have preferred not to be here at all, but he hadn't really anywhere else to go.

Right now all he wanted was to relax. Draco closed his eyes and slid into the water up to his chin. It was the first time he'd felt human in a long while. His body didn't ache as much as it had a few days before.

Draco frowned when he heard the distinct shouts of Potter complaining. He was not sure what the git was on about this time. Potter muttered to himself a lot. It wasn't as though it were anything Draco could actually comprehend, though Potter did seem very angry.

"I've set some clean clothes on your bed," Potter said, his voice suddenly right in the room. Draco sat up quickly, water sloshing over the edge of the tub and splashing the linoleum floor. He hastily covered himself with his hands.

"Knock next time, will you?" Draco squeaked.

Potter glanced at the wet floor. "You're cleaning that." With those words he ducked out of the room, leaving the bathroom door wide open. Draco shivered at the draft blowing in from the other room. Potter must have opened the window in the bedroom. Draco slid back down in the tub and submerged himself up to his neck, closing his eyes. He wasn't about to get out of the tub just to close the door. He was almost finished anyway.

After a moment, Draco drifted into a half sleep. He was thinking on the past few months when suddenly he felt somebody push at his shoulders. Draco's head was submerged in seconds. Draco thrashed and kicked, struggling hard against the strength of whoever held him down. He managed to land a few of his kicks on body parts, but his assailant was much too strong for him and as Draco lost the battle, he had the ridiculous thought that Potter would be cross at how much of a mess he was making. Just as Draco blacked out, he felt the weight pulled from him and everything stopped.

Draco awoke to find he was laid out on the cold, wet floor of the bathroom, coughing and desperately gasping for air, clutching at his throat. Potter knelt beside him, gripping Draco's shoulders tightly. His face was inches from Draco's and his eyes were wide with panic. For some inexplicable reason Draco's mouth was tingling.

Potter released his grip on Draco and slowly stood up, uselessly brushing at his drenched clothing.

"Get dressed," Potter said sharply. He barely spared a glance at Draco before turning away to leave him in privacy.

Draco sat up and looked down at himself. He was still completely naked. A flush rose to his cheeks, though it was much too late to be embarrassed. Potter had already seen him.

Draco shook violently as he stood up on shaky legs. Someone had just tried to drown him. The only other person in the house with him was Potter, but that made no sense. A million thoughts rushed through Draco's mind as he quickly slipped into the trousers and t-shirt that Potter had left for him to wear. He mindlessly yanked the towel from the rack and started to clean the spilt water.

"Malfoy! Get out here!" Potter shouted from the hallway. Draco dropped the sodden towel and rushed out of the room. Potter was rushing down the hall with his wand held at the ready. Draco jumped out of his way and flattened against the wall as Potter rushed past him. "Bloody hell!" Potter screamed, throwing his arms up in frustration. He stopped at the end of the hallway, looking round. He glanced back in Draco's direction and held his finger to his lips, but Draco had no intentions of making a sound.

Draco's heart pounded in his chest. Absently, he noted that he was dripping water all over the wooden floors. The t-shirt he'd put on had soaked up the water from his body and was quickly growing uncomfortable. It was stupid to be thinking such thoughts when the person who had just tried to kill him could still be in the house.

Potter relaxed and lowered his wand. "They're gone," he announced. "They must have Disapparated."

"Can they do that?" Draco asked, flinching when he realised he'd spoken. He hadn't meant to say anything at all, but it was out already and there was no taking it back.

Potter glared and walked back in the direction he'd come from. "Of course they can, you silly prat," he barked. He threw his arms in the air in exasperation and pulled at his own already messy hair. "I knew this was a big mistake. I told Hermione, but she wouldn't believe it."

"What are you going on about?" Draco asked. He was fed up with not knowing, and he was very much fed up with Potter ignoring him.

Potter leaned up against the wall and rubbed at his eyes. "There are some... people who think it's best if we're rid of all Death Eaters," he paused and looked up into Draco's eyes. "...permanently."

"You mean someone is out to..."

"Got it in one," Potter said as he marched past Draco. He stopped short at the sound of clatter coming from the front floor. Potter waved his wand over himself and muttered a cleaning spell.

"Harry!" Granger called up. She rushed up the stairs, out of breath, and stopped in her tracks when she spotted Draco and Potter.

"I'm going out," Potter said immediately. He shot a warning look at Draco and brushed past a baffled Granger to head down the steps. Draco didn't move until he'd heard the front door slam shut.

Granger motioned in the direction she'd come from. "I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

She left Draco to finish getting dressed. He found a pair of socks and some old trainers that were a size too big for him. A few moments later, he entered the kitchen to find that she'd spelled a meal together for the both of them. He quirked his lip and sat down in a seat.

"It's just..." Granger started to say as she settled into the chair right next to Draco. She urged him to dig in and Draco gladly picked up the spoon and sampled the tomato soup she'd set down in front of him. To his amazement, it was quite good.

They ate in silence. Draco felt better and better with each bite, and though they were both quiet, Granger's company was quite pleasant. Once they'd finished their meal, she quickly cleared the table before sitting back down in her chair. She settled her arms on the table and smiled at Draco.

"You're looking much healthier," she said with false cheer. Draco took the time to notice that Granger looked as though she were dressed for a party. She wore a fancy blue dress. The back of her hair was partly pinned up and looked as if it had recently been styled.

"You look as if you were on a date," he said. "It suits you," he added quickly. "I meant to say," Draco stumbled over the words, his cheeks heating up.

Granger crinkled her brow. "I was, actually," she said with a sad sigh.

"Oh," Draco mouthed. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable and very unsure of what to do or say. They'd never really been on good speaking terms back at Hogwarts, but the past year had altered his perspectives on so many things.

Granger stood and walked to the kitchen sink. Draco turned to watch her as she stared out the window into the backyard. "We had a row," she said with a touch of sorrow.

Still unsure of what to say, Draco stood and walked up behind her, hesitantly placing a hand on her shoulder.

Granger suddenly spun round to face him. Their eyes locked.

"Ron was so hacked off," Granger said softly. She was wringing her hands nervously, her eyes darting around.

Draco wasn't sure why she was telling him all this. He was never very good when it came to girls. Draco had never been on the best of terms with Weasley, especially after that incident with the sweet from Draco's mum. Draco hoped to never see or hear about him again in his lifetime.

"I suppose that lets him off the hook then," Draco said, turning away. He hadn't yet told Granger about the attempt on his life. He knew if she found out about it, chances were she'd force Potter to make them move. For some reason, Draco did not want to leave this house. It wasn't even that he felt safer here then anyplace else, and yet he didn't want to leave.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking a bit put off.

Draco shook his head and turned away, suddenly feeling much too tired to deal with any of this. An uncomfortable silence fell between them and Draco wished that he could find the right words to console Granger, but he was never very good with the right words.

He looked up when Granger grabbed hold of his arm. "The doctor at St. Mungo's said someone cast Obliviate on me," she blurted.

Draco froze and his gut clenched. He hoped he'd to never have to talk about that day again. "It's best for all concerned that you not ask," he mumbled, shrinking away from her.

"I need to know. What happened? Why can't I remember most of what went on that day?" When Draco refused to answer she continued. "Something happened and I need to know what it was."

Draco turned his gaze from her, unable to look her in the eyes. She moved in closer and placed her hand on his cheek. He shook his head, swallowing past the lump that had formed in her throat.

The front door banged shut and moments later Potter marched in, holding a paper bag in his arms. Everyone froze. Draco's eyes went wide as Potter glared at them, curling his lip in disgust.

Granger moved away from Draco and cleared her throat. "I'd better be going. I've some work to do." She rushed from the kitchen without a goodbye.

Potter turned his back on him and left without a word.

 

**6\. The Colour of Rush**

They had moved. It happened quickly and late one night. Draco was sound asleep when Potter shook him awake and told him to get dressed. Without another word, Potter had tossed together a rucksack stuffed with his belongings and ordered Draco to do the same. They'd moved out that night under cover of darkness, both silent. Draco was too groggy and too startled to even want to ask what was happening.

They moved into the Muggle world and took up residence in a small, unassuming flat in Muggle London. Potter and Granger had thought that since the attempt on Draco's life, it was best to move away from a known location. Unfortunately, this place was much too cramped for two. It was a one bedroom flat on the third floor of an unassuming building on an unassuming street. Potter seemed convinced nobody would ever think to look there.

Draco had slept that first night on the sofa in the small living room. Potter had slept in the bedroom. Potter had still appeared exhausted the next morning when he had finally dragged himself out of bed at two in the afternoon. He worked for a few hours on setting up detection spells. Potter had mastered silent spell casting. He never uttered a word the whole time he waved his wand. His intense gaze never broke as he swished and stroked.

There wasn't much to the new place. It was sparsely furnished with barely stocked cupboards. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go. In such close quarters, there was no way for the two of them to avoid each other. At least Potter could leave. Draco was trapped. As relieved as he was to be out of prison, this had just become another form of imprisonment. After all, Potter did have a job, though when Draco had asked what exactly Potter did for a living, Potter refused to answered the question. He'd just glared and told Draco not to leave the flat for any reason.

A week went by and Potter still hadn't said a thing about the attempt on Draco's life. Draco was going mad thinking about who and how and what was going on. He finally screwed up the courage to corner Potter one evening just as Potter had returned from one of his outings. Potter looked exhausted and Draco thought that would be the perfect time to settle this.

Potter was not in the mood.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," he growled as he marched past Draco on his way to the bedroom.

"They must be looking," Draco said pathetically. He wasn't sure what else to say.

"Nobody's looking," Potter mumbled. He paused just outside the door, hand resting on the door knob of the bedroom.

"But they must know now that I'm with you," Draco said. Potter turned round sharply and marched up to Draco, shoving his face in Draco's. Draco flinched at the anger in his eyes.

"Nobody's looking, you self-centred, spoilt prat," Potter growled ferociously. "Maybe it was one of your people." He stepped closer forcing Draco to back away. "Maybe it was a Death Eater bent on ending your sorry life."

Draco flinched and looked away. He regretted ever bringing up the subject. Now all he wanted was to escape, but Potter had crowded him into a corner. Draco was trapped like some animal. Potter stood staring him down, unblinking. He was close enough for Draco to see the light green specks in his irises. Without another word, Potter turned and stalked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

It had been over a week since they'd changed location. Granger hadn't visited since he and Potter had settled into the new flat. Potter was constantly going out to run one errand or another, leaving Draco alone most times. That suited Draco just fine until the loneliness had set in. He hadn't even ventured to turn on that box in the living room. Potter had said it was called a telly. Draco hadn't seen anything like it before, but he felt much too self-conscious to ask Potter why Muggles would want a box with a smooth front in their living room.

Tonight Potter returned with a paper bag of warm, greasy fish and chips. Draco set the kitchen table in silence. He had got plates and forks for the both of them, though Potter didn't bother to use either. He tore the bag open and dropped half the contents in Draco's plate then set the greasy bag down on his own plate. He hadn't said one word since coming through the front door. Draco watched as Potter sat and stared blankly while he chewed the same piece of fish for ages.

Draco poured them each a steaming cup of tea and cleared his throat.

"Where's Granger?" he asked, thinking perhaps he should have first asked how Potter was doing, even if it was plain that Potter did not look well.

"She's at St. Mungo's," Potter said barely looking in Draco's direction. He picked up a chip and slowly raised it to his oily lips.

Draco swallowed hard around the chip he'd just bit into. "What's wrong with her?"

When Potter finally did look up, his gaze was tired and worn-out. It seemed to Draco that Potter always looked on the brink of collapse.

"They think she's barmy for championing your cause," he said coldly.

Granger was championing his cause? This was new information. She hadn't just broken him free from that hellish prison. She was also trying to reason with the rest of the Wizarding world.

Potter wrapped his fingers around his last chip. Draco watched as Potter pinched the chip with a short, dirty nail. He followed the chip as Potter popped it between his lips and smacked his lips.

Potter sighed and leaned back against the wall, tilting his chair. "She's in for memory recovery treatment."

Draco froze and dropped the chip he'd been about to eat. His heart went cold and his hand shook.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Afraid she'll find out you really didn't save her?" Potter baited, though his tone was more bland than nasty. He wiped his greasy fingers on a paper towel, crumpling it in a ball and tossing it on the table.

"Has... has she made any progress?" Draco had to ask. He needed to know.

Potter shook his head. "They've told her it's not possible, but she insists." Potter fixed his eyes on Draco, watching him carefully now. "There's a very small chance she'll remember." Potter's voice trailed off. "You did it to her didn't you?" He stood and stepped closer to Draco, crowding him in against the other wall. The room was much too small for the both of them. Draco couldn't even see the doorway with Potter in his way.

Draco looked up and nodded. With no options left to him, truth was the only way to respond.

"Why?" Potter demanded, leaning in closer. His hands were balled into tight fists at his side, and Draco was sure he would reach out to grab him any moment.

"I had to," Draco replied, shrinking away as much as the space would allow.

"What was it like?" Potter snarled. "Being one of them? Was it grand? Did you love the rush of power? Did you love to kill?" The questions were hissed at him each louder than the last. Draco shook his head and flinched, panic setting in. His heart pounded in his chest.

"Stop. Please stop," he said barely loud enough to hear over Potter's shouts. Potter's hand shot out and he gripped the collar of Draco's shabby gray jumper, yanking so hard that he forced Draco almost to his feet. Instinctively Draco grabbed at Potter's arm and held on tightly.

"Why did you Obliviate Hermione?" Potter demanded, shouting into Draco's face. "Why!"

"I had to," Draco said in reply and turned his face away, desperately struggling to get out of Potter's grasp. Draco wanted to claw at Potter's arm, but he didn't bother. He deserved this.

"Why? Did you do something you wanted her to forget?"

Draco shook his head again. A sharp smack on his left cheek shocked Draco into looking up into Potter's cold glare. Tears stung Draco's eyes.

"No. I didn't do anything," Draco finally said after a moment.

Potter released him and Draco fell to the floor on his hands and knees. He got up on his knees and lunged forward, grabbing at Potter's arm.

"You have to stop her, Potter," Draco urged. Potter tried to shake him off, but Draco wouldn't let go. He clung tightly to Potter and even reached round to grip his leg.

"Get off me, you foul bastard," Potter shouted. But Draco clung tightly to Potter, his heart hammering in his chest. Potter finally shook Draco off and stepped away from him, breath ragged.

"Please, Potter," Draco said as he sat back on his legs.

"Why do you care? Why? You were one of them. You stood side-by-side with Voldemort and killed," Potter shouted into Draco's face.

"I never killed," Draco muttered as he turned away, no longer able to look at Potter. "At least not till..."

Potter kicked at Draco's leg then turned and left him alone. Draco was sure that things could only get worse from this moment on. He almost wished he were still in that dark cell. At least he wouldn't have to endure the loathing he felt every time he looked into Potter and Granger's eyes.

 

**7\. There Was A Time**

That evening, Draco woke to the feeling of a heavy weight on his body. As his eyes shot open, a hand clamped down on his mouth, smothering him. He fought hard until he saw the glint of light reflected off glasses. Draco ceased struggling and went limp. Potter sat atop him, straddling his hips dressed only in pyjama bottoms. Draco's arms were pinned underneath Potter's legs, and Potter gripped Draco's t-shirt in a fist. Potter leaned in closer, lips to Draco's ear, hips grinding against him. Draco's gasp of horror was muffled.

The room was dark and with what little light filtered in from the bedroom, Draco could just make out the fiery anger in Potter's eyes.

"What happened to Hermione?" Potter hissed. The strong smell of alcohol wafted over Draco's face. Potter was sloshed. Draco strained against him, but Potter was much too strong for him, tightening his grip on Draco's shirt, twisting it until the fabric almost choked him. Potter pushed forward with all his weight and then removed his hand from Draco's mouth. Disturbingly, Potter slid his hand down Draco's chest and under his shirt.

"Get off me, Potter," Draco said. Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say at that moment. Potter shoved his knee right into Draco's chest and pushed, squeezing the wind from Draco's lungs. Tears came to his eyes. "Please, you're hurting me."

"You're hurting me," Potter taunted as he shoved hard once again.

"Please, Potter," Draco felt tears fall, humiliated once again. He'd thought nothing could have been more humiliating than what he'd already experienced, but Potter seemed able to set new standards the longer they stayed together.

"I love it when you beg," Potter said viciously. "Do it some more."

Draco's heart sped up at these words. Much too afraid to speak, he lay pinned, staring up with wide eyes. He swallowed hard and lay completely still. Potter's hand slipped up under his shirt and Draco shivered involuntarily at the feel of fingers brushing his nipple. Potter's fingers closed around the nipple and pinched.

"I said beg," Potter growled as he gave Draco's nipple a hard twist.

Draco cried out in pain, struggling desperately to free his arms, but Potter had him firmly pinned. When he didn't speak, Potter twisted Draco's nipple again. Draco howled as more tears came to his eyes.

"Stop, please. It hurts," Draco cried out. He tried to lift his knee and push Potter off. He almost succeeded. A rush of hope coursed through Draco as Potter fell forward but it wasn't enough to completely throw Potter off balance. Draco cringed at the stench of alcohol on Potter's breath. He must have drunk quite a bit of firewhiskey to lose this much control.

"I'll make it hurt worse if you don't tell me what you did to Hermione," Potter warned.

"Potter, you're very drunk. You should go to sleep. I promise to tell you in the morning," Draco said. He had to at least try to reason with him, even if it seemed a hopeless cause.

Potter paused and sat up, looking as though he were considering this option. But then he twisted Draco's nipple once again, more viciously then the last time. "I don't believe you." He tugged Draco's shirt up to expose his other nipple and twisted them both at the same time.

Draco screamed in pain, thrashing around, desperate to get free from Potter. The thrashing had a much undesired effect, and Draco stopped his struggles, horrified at what he felt pressed against him. Potter was hard. He was getting off on this. Draco redoubled his efforts to free himself from Potter's captivity.

"You'll be free when I want it," Potter shouted, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained malice. He released Draco's burning nipples, and pressed in closer, rubbing against Draco. "Lay still," Potter mumbled into Draco's ear. He captured the lobe of Draco's ear between his teeth and tugged on it none too gently.

"Get off me," Draco managed to say between grunts and shoves. Panic set in and Draco's mind raced wildly, desperate to latch on to anything he could say to get Potter to release him. He cringed as Potter bit down on his ear lob with more force. Potter thrust against Draco again and again, the bulge in Potter's pyjamas growing.

"You owe me," Potter finally said. "I want you to tell me what you did to Hermione." Potter pressed his full body on top of Draco and cupped Draco's shoulders in his hands, gripping tightly. "What did you do to her?"

"Get off me and I can tell you," Draco said after a long silence in which Potter remained very still and very quiet. Draco had almost thought that Potter had passed out, but Potter was still mumbling words just under his breath. He wasn't sure what Potter was saying but he caught the occasional word. He'd sworn one of the words was 'pretty.' Potter must have been referring to Granger. He was about to agree that his friend was indeed pretty, thinking it would appease Potter, when Potter turned his head and stared deep into Draco's eyes.

"You're pretty," Potter slurred. He leaned in closer and clumsily pressed his lips to Draco's mouth. He only managed to kiss the left corner, but then Potter tilted his head to engulf Draco's mouth completely, smothering him until it was hard to breathe. The taste of alcohol made Draco gag. Draco twisted his head away, and he finally managed to push Potter up, though not off.

"You're pissed," Draco said. They stayed like that, staring into each other's eyes, for what felt like ages. This close, Draco could see Potter's anger deflate.

"That I am," Potter whispered. His eyes glazed over and he turned his head to lay it on Draco's chest. "You've ruined everything," he muttered, his hands sliding over Draco's body, stroking Draco's arm.

Draco barely made out the words. He wanted to push Potter off. He could feel his body going limp, but at the same time he was too afraid that any movement might awaken that anger again.

"She trusted me," Potter continued to mutter. "They all trusted me. It still ended in tears." His voice grew fainter and his body limper. The stroking stopped and Potter's hand slipped over the edge of the sofa, flopping down to hit the floor.

Draco waited until Potter's chest rose and fell steadily and his breath evened out. He slid Potter's glasses from his face and tossed them away, relieved they didn't shatter Really, it didn't matter because, if they did, somebody could have repaired them easily. Draco had more pressing concerns at the moment, like Potter's dead weight pushing down on him. He shifted until Potter slipped off and fell to the floor with a loud thud. Potter didn't even awaken. He lay where he'd fallen, arms and legs akimbo.

There was something about how pathetic this man who lay before him was that sparked compassion in Draco's heart. Most likely, by tomorrow this whole incident would be completely forgotten by Potter. Draco stared down at the saviour of the Wizarding world and couldn't help prevent the slight pang of sympathy that rose in his chest.

He briefly thought to move Potter to his bedroom, but Draco was much too tired and sore. Potter would just have to spend the night on the floor. It served him right, after what he'd done.

Though Draco was unwilling to put effort into dragging Potter to his bed, he did reach down and pull up the elastic of Potter's pyjama bottoms. One side had ridden low on Potter's hip, and Draco was in danger of seeing much more of Potter than he cared to.

"Pathetic," Draco muttered as he pulled his blanket tightly around himself. He wouldn't risk turning his back on Potter now. He lay, facing the unconscious form, starting when Potter grunted and shifted. The sound of soft snores filled the air.

Tomorrow this would all be another moment in Draco's already sorry life, but now he knew that he hadn't been the only one who'd come away from the war scarred. He needed answers and Draco knew just where to find them, or more accurately who to ask. He reached up and touched his lips. He'd swear they still tingled from the clumsy kiss Potter had laid on him. For now, Draco stared down at Potter. Draco was sure he would never fall asleep. When he finally did drift off a short time later, his head was filled with thoughts of sloppy kisses and strong hands.

 

**8\. One Day**

Potter had woken the next morning, after his drunken episode, none the wiser about what had happened. He didn't even question Draco. Not even as to why Potter had been asleep on the floor near the sofa.

Draco had been up for hours before Potter had even stirred. He'd woken, stepped over Potter's still body, and proceeded to make himself tea and toast. He'd paced and watched as Potter muttered incoherently in his sleep. It had been an interesting morning to say the least. Draco had discovered that Potter barely moved while he slept, though that could have been because of the alcohol.

Potter had finally stirred around lunch time. Draco had brewed a pot of strong coffee. He'd sat quietly, watching as Potter clutched at his head and rattled off complaints about how unfair life was and how he'd seriously have to consider buying carpet.

After that, Potter had stumbled to his feet, growled in Draco's general direction and gone to his room, closing the door behind him. He hadn't re-emerged again for hours. Once it was very clear that Potter had no intention of coming out any time soon, Draco had poured the coffee down the kitchen drain.

Later that afternoon, Potter finally did grace Draco with his presence, though he had looked rather shabby. Luckily, Potter stayed out of Draco's way. He barely spoke more than the few words necessary to tell Draco how long he would be gone, and then Potter had left.

Potter stormed into the flat later that evening, slamming the door shut, furiously waving his arms about. As soon as he'd spotted Draco sitting on the sofa, Potter turned his attentions on him. He stomped over to the sofa and hovered over Draco, hands balled into fists. Draco did not flinch.

"This is entirely your fault!" he shouted angrily, eyes blazing with fury.

Draco froze in place, hoping that if he didn't move or speak, Potter would calm down. As always, he'd chosen the wrong action. Draco's silence seemed to make Potter even more furious. By this point, Draco was sure that no matter how he reacted to Potter, it would never be the right way.

"Ron wants to come for a visit. He says I've been neglecting us," Potter continued without waiting for a response from Draco. He paced back and forth, and then paused, his eyes fixed on Draco. "He thinks I'm too fixated on my work." Potter sat down hard on the sofa, right beside Draco, body slumped. He looked pathetic and totally defeated. Draco was not impressed.

Potter stopped his brooding and looked, for the first time since he'd returned, at the telly. "Were you watching that?" Potter asked with a nod at the telly. Draco couldn't see Potter's eyes at this angle because of the reflection of the telly on his glasses.

Before Potter had returned, Draco had ventured to turn on the telly that sat in the living room. It was a box with moving pictures and Draco had watched all afternoon, sometimes with fascination, sometimes with horror, sometimes with disgust, as images flickered across the screen. They seemed very much like moving portraits, only there were stories being told. Most of them were pathetic and odd. Muggles were very strange.

"I was curious," Draco replied, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice, and then fell quiet. He hadn't meant to sound so defensive.

Potter narrowed his eyes and scowled as he snatched the little box that controlled the telly from Draco's hand. Potter pointed it at the telly, pushed a button, and the telly was off. The flicker of the light from the screen vanished instantly. The room was plunged into sudden silence.

"Don't. I'm the one that has to pay for all this," Potter grumbled, tossing the box on the table.

They both jumped when someone knocked at the door. Draco froze once more, feeling the colour drain from his face. Maybe Weasley had followed Potter home. He wouldn't put it past that hanger-on.

Potter slowly stood up and reached for the wand tucked up his shirt sleeve. Draco had taken note of all the places Potter chose to hide his wand. He'd even thought a few times about attempting to snatch it and disappear in the night, but something told Draco that Potter would drop everything to hunt him down.

"Harry, let me in. It's me, Hermione," Granger called out. Potter marched over to the doorway and looked through the peephole. He glanced back at Draco and then flipped the bolt on the door, opening it to allow her entrance. As soon as Granger had walked through the doorway, Potter slammed the door shut behind her. She jumped, startled by the sudden noise.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Potter asked by way of greeting. His tone was neither friendly nor cold.

"Hello, Harry," She leaned forward and hugged him, though Potter did not reciprocate. Granger set a small box down on the coffee table. She then she turned to look down at where Draco sat. "Hello, Malfoy." She smiled, but her expression was strained and her eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at Draco. She turned back to face Potter, reaching for the clasp on her cloak.

"I've brought you those things you asked for," Granger said as she removed her cloak and set it across a chair. She walked around the sofa and sat down beside Draco. Potter paused long enough to glare before he snatched up the box and stormed from the room. The slam of the bedroom door shook the room.

"He's in a bit of a snit," Granger said.

Draco wanted to tell her that Potter was constantly in more than a bit of snit, but he chose to stay silent. The silence stretched and Granger fiddled with the hem of her jacket.

"How have you been?" he finally asked, feeling decidedly off with the whole situation. She was Potter's friend. It wasn't that Draco disliked her, but after what had happened with Potter last night, he wasn't exactly in the mood to entertain.

"I've been fine," Granger blurted nervously. "I've been just fine. Things have been... rather busy."

Draco wanted to ask about her visit to St. Mungo's, but he was unsure how to bring up the subject. They both sat in silence, the occasional sound from the bedroom breaking the quite.

"Malfoy," Granger finally said.

Draco braced himself for what she would say next. He had dreaded this day since that night on the field.

"Harry hasn't had it easy," she said slowly, as though she were choosing her words carefully. Draco felt his discomfort grow. This was a fine time to point out that Potter had a hard life.

"None of us have," Draco interrupted before she could say more in defence of his tormentor.

Granger nodded absently, staring ahead. Her eyes were glazed over, lost in thought. A loud crash from the bedroom startled them both. However, they didn't need to bother to get up to get up to check on what had made the noise. Potter's string of colourful curses could easily be heard from where they sat.

"Doesn't give him the excuse to act like a wanker," Draco muttered under his breath. Part of him wanted to tell Granger about the events of the night before, but he really didn't see any point in it. It was best for everyone that what happened that night remain forgotten.

Granger tilted her head, a frown creasing her brow. Draco was startled to note that she looked ten years older than her true age. He hadn't really looked her directly in the eyes since she'd arrived. Now he took the time to examine her more closely. She looked knackered, and the dark circles under her eyes were much more pronounced than the last time he'd seen her.

"It's Harry's twentieth birthday today," she whispered, glancing at Draco with an expectant look. Was she hoping for some reaction? Did she think that Draco would jump for joy or perhaps run up to Potter and congratulate him on being a year older? If so, she would be waiting a long time. It seemed like another lifetime when they had been children, walking into Hogwarts for the very first time. Now here they were both twenty. It should be something they celebrated.

Draco wasn't surprised that Potter had not mentioned it to him. Draco had turned twenty only a month before. He'd barely bothered to keep track, only in the sense that he knew he was a year older that day than the year before. He'd been in that prison far too long. So much had changed. Draco barely moved except to shrug his shoulders and sigh deeply.

"Perhaps we should have thrown him a party," he muttered with only a trace of bitterness.

They sat in silence again for what seemed like ages before Granger finally stood and smoothed down the front of her skirt.

"I suppose I should be going," she announced. Draco didn't stop her as she walked to the bedroom door and rapped against the wood. "I'm leaving, Harry," she called out. When there was no response from Potter, Granger scooped up her cloak and gently closed the front door behind her as she left.

For the longest time, Draco sat on the sofa, unmoving. He thought that perhaps he should have said more to Granger or behaved differently, but he wasn't sure what he should have said or how he should have behaved.

It was almost an hour before he finally stood up. The lack of noise from Potter's room was starting not so much to concern Draco as grate on his nerves.

Draco knocked on the door and waited an appropriate amount of time before turning the knob. Since it wasn't locked, Draco took that to mean he could enter. The room was dark and he could see Potter passed out on the bed. He lay on his back wearing nothing but shorts and socks. The clothes he'd had on earlier had been tossed aside. A half empty bottle of firewhiskey sat on the nightstand beside the bed. Draco shook his head.

"This is the great saviour of all Wizarding kind? A pathetic drunk," he said with distaste. He was about to leave Potter in peace when something against the far wall caught Draco's attention.

Draco checked again to be sure that Potter was indeed passed out. He silently moved forward and stepped back when he nearly trampled Potter's wand. Draco shook his head with disdain. Then he noticed that the box Granger had given to Potter earlier lying open on the bed. Draco could see that some of its contents had been set out on the bed, but that hadn't been what had caught his attention.

Draco gulped when he saw the medal. He walked to the opposite side of the room and bent down to pick up the object he'd spotted. It was an Order of Merlin first class. It looked as though Potter had thrown it across the room.

"I don't deserve it, you know," Potter slurred.

Draco quickly stood and turned to see that Potter had woken while he'd been distracted. Potter looked terrible. He'd rolled onto his side and was squinting at Draco.

"No, actually, I wouldn't know," Draco stood still, the medal still in his hand.

"Give it here," Potter said, holding out his hand.

Draco stared down at the object in his hand. There was no reason not to give it back. He tossed it to Potter and watched as the medal bounced once and landed by Potter's hip. Potter still held out his hand as though he hadn't even realised that Draco had already given it back.

"Get out," Potter muttered.

This was all so pointless and stupid, and Draco would have liked nothing better than to get out completely, as Potter asked. He wanted to get out of Potter's life for good. A myriad of reactions rushed through his mind, but in the end Draco knew he didn't have many choices.

This way was better this way for both of them, and knowing that Potter was suffering almost as much as he had suffered brought forth a viciousness that Draco hadn't felt in a long while.

It felt good.

He slammed the door behind him, leaving Potter to wallow in his pathetic moment.

 

**9\. Upside down**

He was sitting, staring out the small window, when Potter stomped into the flat, obviously on a mission. Draco jumped up and moved away from the window, afraid that perhaps he'd somehow angered Potter. But Potter barely noticed him as he marched straight into his bedroom and slammed the door shut.

It had been three days since Potter had passed out in his room drunk. Draco had managed to stay out of Potter's way most times. Potter went back to barely speaking to him, and Draco liked it that way.

The only problem was boredom. It was mind-numbingly boring here, and Draco would rather be transfigured into a ferret again than ask anything of Potter.

A few hours later, Potter emerged with a determined expression on his face. Draco was sitting at the kitchen table when Potter set a small glass down in front of him.

"Drink this now," Potter ordered.

Draco glared up at him and then down at the dark liquid. It looked vile and disgusting. He leaned in close and sniffed, jerking his head back almost immediately. It smelled just as vile as it looked. He wanted to say no thank you. He wanted to say that he wasn't thirsty, but when he glanced up at Potter, the look in the other's eyes stopped him.

Potter pulled his wand out. "Either you drink that or I petrify you and stuff you in the broom cupboard," he said as he held his wand at the ready. "I'll toss my smelly laundry on top of you to hide your body."

Draco knew by the look in Potter's eyes that he wasn't joking. He picked up the glass and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to swallow the contents in one gulp. Draco gagged at the last gulp and dropped the glass.

"No need to worry. Hermione brewed it up," Potter said with a smirk. He picked up the now empty glass and tucked his wand away, then started to wash the glass. "Your name is Philip. You're living here with me until you can find a place of your own," Potter said as he dried the clean glass and set it back in the cupboard above the counter. Potter turned round to face Draco and pointed a finger at him.

"Polyjuice," Draco whispered as he looked down to see that his hands were already transforming. He slipped from his chair, knees banging against the floor. "Bastard," he muttered, as the burning sensation spread through his body. He curled into a ball and cringed. His insides lurched as though trying to burst free from his body.

"Oh, don't be such a child. It's perfectly safe and it'll all be over in just a moment," Potter scorned. He knelt over Draco's writhing form, a malicious grin on his face. "You call me Harry while..."

Potter started at the loud bang on the front door. Draco reached out to grab at Potter as he walked from the room. Potter stopped in his tracks and looked down at him.

"Be good and I'll let you go outside," Potter said, leaving Draco to twitch in agony on the kitchen floor. It was over soon enough. The sensations suddenly stopped and the feeling of being twisted into a million little knots was gone.

Draco could hear voices from the hallway. Potter was greeting someone and inviting them inside.

"This is it?" a familiar voice said.

Draco pushed himself back up to sit in the chair, clutching at his stomach. He held his hands up to see that they didn't look that much different than his own. He wanted a mirror to see what Potter had done to him, but the only shiny surface was the glass of the window. He turned to face it and could just make out that his hair was now shoulder length and blond. His t-shirt and jeans were now a bit too large.

Draco froze in his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. They were coming into the kitchen.

It sounded like Weasley. "It looks rather small," Weasley said, "but cosy," Weasley added as Potter and he stepped into the small space. Draco couldn't move. He felt much too disoriented to do anything but sit and stare at somebody he'd never expected to see again.

There he stood. Ron Weasley. The last time Draco had seen Weasley had been on a bloodstained battlefield. Now he was just mere feet away from Draco, looking rather pleased. It took all Draco's willpower not to punch the smile from Weasley's face.

"Who's this?" Weasley asked. Potter grabbed Weasley by his arm and pulled him from the room.

"He's just my flatmate, Philip. I'm helping him out," Potter said as he tried to turn Weasley from the room, but he twisted from Potter's grip and leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Really? He the reason you've been so preoccupied?" Weasley stared down at Draco with curiosity. "Hullo, Philip." Weasley held his hand out for Draco to shake.

Draco wanted to laugh at how right Weasley actually was about what had been distracting Potter, but he kept his mouth shut and stared back at Weasley's beady little eyes. He didn't take the offered hand. An uncomfortable silence stretched on far too long.

"Not really," Potter said as he walked over and stood beside Draco. He nudged Draco in the head with his arm. "He's mute. Can't speak a word," Potter added.

"Ha, ha, very funny, Po--" Draco flinched at the kick to his shin. Potter had taken care to land his blow while Weasley was distracted by the still painting on the wall. No doubt the fact that it was not moving had caught his attention. "Harry," Draco corrected, saying the name as though he were spitting. "If I'd known you were going to have a guest, I would have dressed up."

Potter sneered and nudged him again until Draco almost fell out of the seat. "We'd like some privacy," Potter whispered. He leaned down, his eyes still focused on Weasley. "And don't try anything funny."

Draco stood up, his entire body stiff. He was sure that Weasley would somehow know it was him and not this person, Philip, whom Potter had created. Nobody said a word as he walked from the kitchen.

Draco sat down on the sofa. He didn't really have anyplace else to go, and he wasn't in the mood to sit in the toilet. He could still hear every word coming from the kitchen.

"He's not very friendly," he heard Weasley say.

"He's just tired," Potter replied. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor echoed through the flat. Draco almost wished he'd chosen to be petrified, until Weasley spoke up again.

"Have you any leads yet on where Malfoy might be?" Draco stood at the mention of his name. The question was followed by a long silence. The shrill of a kettle whistling broke it. His heart sped up and his throat tightened. Why would Weasley be asking about him?

"I'd have told you if I had, wouldn't I?" Potter finally said, barely loud enough for Draco to hear. Draco stood and crept as quietly as he could so that he stood right against the wall beside the entrance to the kitchen.

"No telling where he went. He's probably long gone by now," Weasley said. A spoon clattered. Draco strained to hear.

"It'd have to be that, or I'd have found him by now," Potter muttered. "Let's not talk about work."

Work? What did Potter mean by that?

Draco risked a peek into the room to find Potter and Weasley sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea.

When neither of the two men on the other side of the wall spoke again, Draco slipped away just as silently and headed for the toilet. He pulled at his jeans as they slowly slipped down his waist and perched on his hips, threatening to slide down completely.

Draco flipped the light switch and stood staring at the stranger in the mirror. The first word that came to mind was pretty. Draco sneered at the reflection. His eyes were now blue. Though his hair was still blond, it wasn't the pale he was used to. His lips were thick and full.

He flipped his hair. The fringe was very long and fell in front of his eyes every time he tilted his head. Draco lifted his hands and stared at them. They were very effeminate.

"You've turned me into a poof," he whispered contemptuously. He crossed his arms, and then turned his body left and right to get a better look at it. He snarled and tried to look vicious, but only managed to look cute.

He heard the distant sound of a door closing. Moments later, Harry's reflection appeared in the mirror. Harry stood with his arms crossed, and stared without a word, the expression in his eyes inscrutable. Draco spun around, ready to have it out with Potter, but stopped at the look in Potter's eyes.

"Ironic isn't it," Potter said, gaze travelling from Draco's face down to his chest. He smirked. "I've been assigned to find and apprehend..." Potter leaned in close until their noses were almost touching, "...you."

Draco's heart started to pound in his chest. There was no hiding his reaction to this revelation. Draco could see the delight in Potter's eyes. He leaned away from Potter who had Draco against the small sink, their bodies almost flush. He could smell alcohol on Potter's breath. He wanted nothing more than to be as far from Potter as possible. Instead of pushing past Potter and rushing from the flat, Draco lifted his chin defiantly.

"Did you want something in particular?" he asked in a belligerent tone. He gripped the sink behind him with one hand and clenched the other into a fist, ready to shove Potter away if necessary.

"It'll be at least another half hour before the Polyjuice wears off," Potter said as he moved in closer. Before Draco could push him away, Potter grabbed hold of his arm with one hand and wrapped his other arm round Draco's neck, pulling him closer. He pressed his lips to Draco's mouth, pushing his tongue in. Draco struggled hard, but couldn't break from Potter's very firm grip.

There was no getting free. The harder he struggled, the harder Potter pushed. Potter placed his lips to Draco's ear.

"Stay still," he whispered. His hot breath made the hairs on the back of Draco's neck stand up.

It was a losing battle. Eventually Draco stilled and lay beneath Potter, staring up at the ceiling. The day had exhausted him already. Draco could feel Potter's arousal hard against his thigh. He pressed his body against Potter while Potter stroked his head soothingly. Potter moaned and kissed Draco harder and then slipped a hand under Draco's t-shirt, pushing it up. He broke the kiss, barely giving Draco time to think as Potter yanked Draco's shirt up and off, tossed it over his shoulder, and then pushed Draco against the wall. The back of Draco's legs hit the edge of the bathtub and he almost fell back, but Potter prevented him from falling into the tub.

At first Draco thought the moment was broken, but it seemed that Potter had other ideas. He hooked a finger through a belt loop on Draco's jeans and pulled him all the way to the bedroom. The room was dark until Draco's eyes adjusted. Potter yanked the overlarge jeans down with a flourish and pushed Draco onto the bed. He threw his jeans aside, and before Draco could slide away, Potter fell on top of him, mashing their lips together. Potter squirmed and struggled with his own clothes, tossing them aside, barely breaking the kiss.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut tightly when a warm hand wrapped around his hardening cock. He pulled Potter in closer, gripping tightly to his broad shoulders. Draco pressed his head against the mattress as Potter plunged his tongue deep into Draco's mouth and stroked him. It all happened so quickly. They were skin to skin. Potter now had them both in hand and the warmth and feel sent shudders of pleasure through Draco.

Potter pressed him against the bed, rubbing against him. Moans filled the darkened room. Then a sticky wetness splashed between them, and he could feel the pulse against his own cock when Potter climaxed. Draco rubbed against him in a frenzy to reach his own orgasm. Potter sped up his strokes, biting Draco's bottom lip. Moments later, Draco cried out as he pulsed into Potter's hand.

His skin started to tingle. At first he thought it was an after-effect of his orgasm, but then Draco realised that he was returning to normal. The potion had worn off.

"Get out," Potter muttered, rolling away from him. When Draco didn't move, Potter pushed at him, until he did get off the bed. Without a glance back, Draco slipped on his jeans and left the room.

He slammed the door of the toilet shut and leaned heavily on the sink. When he lifted his head up, his own face stared back at him. Gone were the startling blue eyes, and in their place, Draco's own grey, cold orbs stared.

"What are you staring at?" he snarled viciously. He wished at that moment that he could smash the mirror into a million tiny pieces. Draco was surprised when he looked down to see that his fist was poised to strike. He couldn't remember lifting his hand up.

 

**10\. The Sting Of Bitterness**

The days passed so slowly, Draco was sure he'd go mad. Potter went out for longer stretches at a time and left Draco alone most times. It felt good to be away from Potter's prying eyes, but the freedom came with a price. If Draco thought he had been lonely while trapped in that prison, it was nothing compared to Potter walking in after being out all day at his job and walking past Draco as though he were not even there.

At first, he welcomed Potter's attitude. He made a point of staying out of Potter's way. It was clear that Potter was not willing to deal with what had happened the night Draco had been Polyjuiced. In truth, Draco wasn't ready to deal either. He told himself it was better to leave it be. Better not to even think about the way Potter had touched him and the feelings that had brought forth.

But now a small part of Draco didn't want to leave it be. He wanted Potter to say something, but every morning Potter was already gone and every evening Potter returned to the small flat and continued to ignore Draco. The torturous treatment went on for nearly two weeks. It seemed impossible that Potter could keep ignoring him. Draco was sure that eventually Potter would say something, even if it was to say 'pass the table salt.' After all, Draco was right there.

By the start of the third week, Draco decided that he would not be the first to communicate with Potter. He would wait Potter out. Potter had to speak to him some time. Draco would not break first. He'd show Potter that he was the stronger of the two.

Friday rolled around. Potter had gone off to wherever it was that he went each day as always. Draco was sitting, eating his dinner, when the door flung open and Potter stomped in, slamming the door loudly behind him. Draco set his spoon down and stared into his bowl of soup. When neither of them moved, Draco peeked up and saw that Potter stood by the doorway. He watched as Potter scratched at the whiskers on his cheek. He'd obviously not bothered to shave for a few days. To Draco's horror, he found this scruffy looking Potter rather attractive.

"I need your help again," Potter stated coolly. He shifted a brown paper bag from one hand to the other.

It was irritating that after all these weeks, Potter had not once spoken a single word to him, and now those were the first words from his mouth?

Draco pushed his bowl away and stood so fast that the chair scraped across the floor and fell over. He didn't care. All he wanted at that moment was to get as far from Potter as possible.

He turned to rush out of the room, but Potter had other plans. He grabbed hold of Draco's arm tightly and spun him round till Draco had no option but to stop struggling.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco shouted his frustration. "I've stayed out of your way. I've kept as quite as I could. I've not spoken a word. What more could you want?"

At those words, Potter released him, but he would not allow Draco to pass. Potter stood, blocking the exit from the kitchen, an enigmatic look on his face. Frustrated beyond belief, Draco stormed back to the table and picked the fallen chair up to set it right, slamming it on the floor. It rattled in his grip and Draco leaned against it once he'd settled it back in under the table.

"Aren't you going to finish your dinner?" Potter finally said after a long silence.

"Bugger off," Draco snapped. The room was silent again, the quiet broken only by the distant sound of a siren.

Potter walked to the sink and set the bag down on the countertop. He stood motionless, his back to Draco.

"You'll be thrilled to know that they're all having a good laugh on me," Potter said as he folded the bag neatly.

Draco didn't move.

"It's taking me entirely too long to catch the notorious..." Potter was right behind him before Draco realised it, "... Draco Malfoy," he finished in Draco's ear.

Draco was pinned by Potter. The feel of the other man's body pressed so close to him made him shudder, but not from revulsion. Potter held something up and Draco realised what it was almost immediately.

"I won't drink it this time," he insisted. He could feel Potter's breath on the back of his neck, and Draco meant to elbow him, except he was much too alarmed.

"You don't have a choice," Potter insisted, forcing the bottle into Draco's hand. "Drink it down like a good little boy, and I won't hand you over to the Ministry." There was no menace in Potter's tone at all. It seemed odd with such threatening words for Potter to be so calm.

"You wouldn't dare," Draco sneered, tired of allowing Potter to always have the upper hand. He shoved back as hard as he could and finally escaped from Potter, spinning round to face him. Potter held the bottle of dark liquid up for Draco to take, but Draco stubbornly put his hands behind his back.

"You don't have a choice," Potter repeated, in a sing-song tone.

Draco defiantly stuck his nose in the air. He'd had so many choices once and now they were all gone, but maybe Potter was desperate enough to negotiate.

"Malfoy, you have to," Potter added when Draco didn't respond immediately.

"Only if I get to go outside for a day," Draco blurted. He'd been unsure of what he wanted, but when Draco realised he hadn't see daylight in so long, he knew just what to ask for.

"You're in no position to negotiate," Potter insisted, irritation creeping into his voice. He stepped closer to Draco and held the bottle out. "Drink it now," he ordered.

Draco stood his ground. "I'll drink it on the condition that I get to go outside." Potter was the one who would lose. It had to work. Draco was going bonkers trapped in these lonely four walls.

Potter froze and seemed to ponder what Draco had said. He turned his gaze from the bottle of potion to Draco.

"An hour, and that's all," Potter finally said, "and you have to be Polyjuiced, or no deal. It wouldn't do for me to be seen with the most wanted criminal in the Wizarding world."

Was Potter daft? Of course there was no way Draco could be seen as himself. He'd have to drink the potion, but at least he'd get to breathe fresh air and walk amongst the living. It would be worth it just to be out of this awful place, if only for a moment.

This time when Potter held the bottle out, Draco took it. He removed the stopper, and cringed at the thought of the horrid taste, steeling himself. He lifted the bottle to his lips and gulped it down quickly.

A few moments later, after the uncomfortable transformation, Draco stared down at hands that were not his own. He set the bottle down and stared up at Potter, who wore a smug look on his face.

"You're too pretty, Malfoy," he said as he stepped closer. Before Draco could react, Potter had his hands in his hair and was tilting Draco's head to lock their mouths together in a harsh kiss.

 

**11\. Oxygen**

It seemed so long since Draco had been outside in the real world. He couldn't help taking deep breaths. Not caring how silly or foolish it looked, he closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun. He'd never welcomed its harsh light before, but just then, it felt as though he'd discovered freedom.

Potter sat quietly beside him on the park bench, glancing occasionally at his wristwatch, obviously watching the time for when Draco would have to drink again. Potter had finally lived up to his end of the bargain and allowed Draco outdoors. There had been a few conditions, but they had been worth it to breathe fresh air for the first time in a while.

Potter nervously tapped his fingers against his leg, and then pulled a flask from his pocket, handing it to Draco.

"It's been almost an hour. You should drink some now," he said as Draco took the flask. This had been one of the stipulations. Draco was only allowed out in his Polyjuice disguise. He'd argued that here people wouldn't even know who Draco Malfoy was, but Potter had insisted and refused to change his mind.

Draco uncapped the lid and sipped some of the potion. At first, he'd been surprised that Potter had agreed to stay out longer than the agreed upon hour. Potter had then explained that it would be too much trouble and not worth doing for just one hour. The notion that Potter might actually have been acting out of kindness had dissolved instantly. He was as much a git as always, especially when he'd insisted on a binding spell to keep Draco's left wrist shackled to Potter's right one. Potter had become quite the wizard. The bindings were invisible to anyone but them. The spell he'd cast had been one not known to Draco. If Draco weren't so hacked off, he'd have been impressed.

But he was trying not to focus on any of that at the moment though, because he was much too busy breathing fresh air and enjoying the pretence of freedom. Here in this park, he could sit openly without fear of recognition and without discord. There weren't many people around at this time of day, and for the most part, he and Harry were left alone to soak up the atmosphere of the park.

Draco stared down at his foreign hands and fiddled with a torn thread on the shirt Potter had given him to wear.

"You haven't said thank you," Potter suddenly spoke up.

Draco turned and looked into Potter's eyes. This close to Potter, he could see the myriad shades of green in his irises. "Is there a particular way you want me to thank you?" Draco asked cautiously. Being Slytherin had taught Draco many things, and one of those was that nothing came without a price.

Potter leaned in close and pressed his lips to Draco's ear.

"I find the words thank you work well for me," he whispered, then shifted back to look into Draco's eyes. Potter was actually smiling and he looked more relaxed than Draco had seen him in a while.

"Very clever, Potter," Draco replied. "Why don't you just cut the binding spell and leave me here? You could walk away, and never look back," he whispered. "You'd be rid of me. I'm only a burden." His heart was pounding in his chest, and his hands were trembling. He'd not even realised he wanted to say those words until they'd left his mouth.

Potter slipped his hand into Draco's and squeezed it tightly, his lips pressed so tightly together they were white. He leaned in close again. When Draco tried to pull away, Potter held him firmly in place.

"I don't think that would be wise, Malfoy," he hissed with a vindictiveness Draco had never heard before. "You'll sit here and enjoy this last moment of freedom. You're mine. You belong to me. You'll not go anywhere unless I say so, and I don't say so." He squeezed Draco's hand hard enough to hurt. Draco tried not to flinch, and failed.

Draco was too taken aback by the words to respond. Before he could comment on how wrong Potter was, Potter had slid closer and placed a hand on Draco's knee. A panicked feeling rose in his chest as Potter leaned in and kissed Draco hard on the mouth, forcefully pushing his tongue pasted Draco's lips. Draco's heart began to pound in his chest.

"It's easy enough to discourage anyone from bothering us," Potter muttered as he kissed Draco roughly. His hands were under Draco's coat, seeking out bare skin. Potter pushed Draco's shirt up, and pinched Draco's nipple between his fingers, while any protestations on Draco's part were smothered by Potter's mouth. Soon, both of Potter's hands where exploring Draco's torso. The almost gentle caresses were in complete contrast to the forceful kisses.

When he broke away, Draco frantically made sure there was no one around. The park was very much empty. This left Draco feeling both relieved and frightened. On the one hand, if there were onlookers, Potter might stop, but on the other hand, he didn't want anyone seeing this. Though he knew they wouldn't know it was him, Draco would know and the thought of others seeing how far he'd fallen made him ill.

They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment without a word, and then Draco chose. He leaned in and kissed Potter on the lips, slowly at first. Potter raised a hand to run his finger through Draco's long blond hair. He could feel Potter grin against his mouth as Draco gave in to the moment.

They left the park right after. The walk home was silent. Too lost in thought, Draco didn't notice when they reached the front door of the flat. Potter had held his hand the whole time, and Draco's palm had gotten clammy. He wanted to pull away to wipe the sweat off, but each time he tried, Potter would tighten his grip.

Just as they were about to enter the flat, a voice behind them called out to Harry. They both turned to find Granger rushing quickly down the hallway. Potter suddenly released Draco's hand and just as suddenly, the binding charm was lifted. Draco's wrist was freed. He hid his hand behind his back, wiping his damp palm against his pants.

"Harry," she said, all out of breath by the time she finally stopped in front of them. "I tried to reach you at work, but they said you'd gone out sick." She turned to Draco. Granger narrowed her eyes and leant forward, a look of confusion on her face. "Malfoy?"

"Come on in," Potter said. They walked into the darkened flat. It filled with light at Potter's muttered enchantment as soon as the door closed behind Hermione.

"We may have a problem," she said immediately. Now that Draco was paying attention, he saw the nervousness in her stance and noted that Granger was wringing her hands together.

"I've got everything under control, Hermione," Potter assured her. He placed a hand on the small of Draco's back and guided him to the bedroom.

"Shouldn't I be there to hear what she's got to say?" Draco protested.

"It's nothing to do with you," Potter insisted as he closed the door in Draco's face, effectively shutting him out. Draco tried to protest, but when he went to open the door, it was sealed. Potter had locked him in.

Draco lay down on the bed when it was clear Potter had no intention of letting him out. He must have drifted off to sleep because when he awoke, he glanced down to note he was himself again. The door to the bedroom was open. Potter stood blocking the doorway, a dark silhouette against the light.

"We have to leave now," was all he said.

 

**12\. Cloak of Darkness**

Draco wasn't sure where they were anymore. They'd hastily moved from that other flat under the cloak of darkness. The new flat wasn't very big, and there wasn't much light. The windows were sealed shut with plywood, and the door had been spelled shut when Potter had left, leaving Draco alone in inky darkness. Draco was reminded of his cell. The dankness of the place left him chilled to the bone, and incapable of relaxing for more than a moment. Draco was overwhelmed with utter helplessness. It felt as though each second lasted a lifetime. The sun had set, it was dark now, and the new place was cold at night.

The building must have been abandoned, because there wasn't much furniture and the kitchen wasn't stocked. Draco had tried the switch to turn on a light, but nothing had happened. He muttered Lumos under his breath a few times, just to hear the word, but without a wand, there was no magic.

He wasn't even sure how long it had been since they'd moved, possibly a day or two, though it felt much longer. Draco wasn't really sure of much at all. One day he'd been kissed in the park, and now he was here.

There wasn't much to do at this new place. The cupboards were barren. There were no books to read, and this time there was no telly. He'd already examined every corner of the small rooms. The bedroom contained one musty bed with no pillows or sheets. There was only one blanket and he hadn't figured out what colour it was. The living area contained a small kitchenette with a three-legged table and one crooked wooden chair. The floors were warped and dusty.

He had paced in the small living area for what seemed like hours, wringing his hands nervously. He'd fretted that Potter would leave him in this horrid place for good. He'd even begun to convince himself that he'd die in this squalor. Potter could very well leave him here. It wasn't as though anyone knew about Draco and it would solve Potter's problem of what to do with him. A part of Draco hoped Potter would leave him here, but there was a growing feeling of desire and want that Draco constantly pushed to the back of his mind. It was all Potter's fault. Draco hated that small part that hoped. He hated Potter more for putting it there.

Draco was sitting on the sofa when he heard the doorknob rattling. He stood immediately and watched as the door swung open, his heart fluttering in his chest. Though he knew that Potter was the only one who could possibly walk through that door, his heart was still in his throat until he saw that it was Potter, and he looked a mess. He was also holding several paper bags. Draco quickly rushed to help Potter before they spilt all over the floor. To his surprise, Potter actually thanked him. It was barely a mutter and Draco wasn't sure he was meant to hear the words, but they were there.

"Bloody well took forever to get back," Potter said as they set the bags down on the small counter in the kitchenette.

Potter slipped out of his coat and dropped it on a crooked wooden chair. It was old and since one leg had snapped off, it leant against the table so that it wouldn't fall over. Draco noticed right away that Potter wasn't wearing his usual suit. He wore an old, faded blue t-shirt with equally faded blue jeans. Potter busily filled the small fridge and two lone cupboards with the food he'd bought, while Draco stood watching. Potter never liked it when Draco helped. He'd made that perfectly clear a few days before.

"I was starting to get worried," Draco said. Potter turned round and smiled, tucking his hands behind his back.

"That's rather almost believable," he said, too sweetly.

Draco took one step back and lowered his eyes. Since they'd been forced to change flats, Potter had been rather quiet. He hadn't touched Draco once. Draco hoped that meant Potter's spat of self-loathing or whatever that had been was over.

"You haven't been gone for that long before," Draco ventured. "I was worried," he added quickly, backing away as Potter moved closer to him.

Potter sighed. "I had a lot to take care of," he said as he stepped closer still. He didn't stop until he had Draco up against the wall. "No worries," he said, reaching out with one hand to plant it on the wall right beside Draco's head. "I'm here now."

"I wasn't that worried," Draco replied, unable to hide the slight quiver in his voice.

Their eyes met and Draco froze as he waited for Potter to make his next move. When he finally did, it wasn't at all what Draco had been expecting. Potter's hidden hand came up to reveal chocolate. Potter held the confection up in front of Draco.

"I got you something special," Potter said with a gleam in his eye. He stepped away from Draco, giving him plenty of room to move, and held the chocolate bar out. He motioned for Draco to take the bar.

Tentatively, Draco reached up and took the offering. "Thank you," he whispered.

Potter spun round and moved back to the counter, pulling take-out food from the bags and setting each paper container on the counter.

"I hadn't much time, so it's take-out, I'm afraid," Potter said as he opened up the cartons to reveal greasy fish and chips. Unsure what else to do, Draco sat down on the lumpy sofa and stared down at the confection he still held in one hand.

"It's... fine," Draco muttered, eyes still focused on the candy Potter had got for him.

"Is it not to your liking?" Potter asked. Draco looked up to find Potter staring at him, paper plates of fish and chips in each hand.

He shook his head. "It's perfectly fine," Draco said loud enough for Potter to hear.

Potter stood staring at him for a moment, a blank look in his eyes, and then he flopped down beside Draco on the sofa. Their thighs brushed as Potter squirmed and settled in beside him, placed one of the plates in his lap, and handed the other over to Draco. Draco took his plate and set it down. The food was still warm, but no longer hot.

"You should eat it," Potter finally said, "or you could wait until after you've eaten your dinner."

They ate in silence and Draco didn't share his sweet. He hesitated before taking a first bite. Potter sat watching without saying a word. Draco snapped it in half and handed it to Potter. The surprise in Potter's eyes was gratifying. Draco watched as Potter gobbled his down, and licked his fingers clean. He ate his own piece slowly, savouring each bite.

"Thanks," Potter mumbled with his head lowered.

Potter looked rather pathetic at that moment. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Draco could hear his own heart beating against his rib-cage as the moment stretched on. He leaned forward and hesitantly kissed Potter on the lips, unsure how his gesture would be received. Potter's lips tasted like chocolate and Draco couldn't stop himself from licking at them.

Potter lifted his head, a confused look on his face. "Why'd you do that?"

Draco shrugged, "To thank you."

Potter seemed to take the explanation in stride, and continued to eat his meal. They cleaned up in silence and sat back down on the sofa. It felt as though hours passed with neither of them speaking one word. Draco started to nod off, no longer able to keep his eyes open.

Potter nudged him when Draco's head fell against Potter's shoulder for the fourth time.

"I think it's time for you to get to bed," Potter griped, elbowing him repeatedly in the side until Draco had no choice but to get up. He rubbed the spot Potter had been poking, much too groggy to say anything. As he moved to the bedroom, Potter stood and followed him. They stopped in the entryway and Draco stared down at the pathetic excuse for a bed. At least it was better than the floor. He'd grown so accustomed to unsavoury conditions that only now did Draco realise with complete distaste that he no longer cared where he lived or slept. It was revolting. How had this happened?

He tried telling himself it was just circumstances and that once all this was over, he could embrace his former lifestyle of wealth and luxury, but Draco knew the truth. He would be lucky if he survived to his next birthday. If the Ministry had found their location once, they could find it again.

Lost in thought, Draco walked over to the mattress and sat down. He barely registered that Potter had closed the doorway, plunging the room into darkness. Draco lay down and settled in, hoping to get at least some rest. The bedsprings creaked as Potter joined him. Draco had made the mistake of lying down on his side. With Potter right behind him, he shivered at the thought of how vulnerable he was in this position. The bed was barely big enough for them both, and Potter kept shifting, causing the bed to rock and bounce. It was irritating and just as Draco was about to tell Potter to knock it off, he felt a hand on his hip. Draco went still, even holding his breath.

"This is a bit cosy," Potter whispered into his ear. Potter's breath was warm and sent a shiver through Draco. The hand on his hip curled round him, and squeezed Draco's hipbone. Then Potter was shifting again, moving in closer to press right up against Draco. Draco could feel the heat from Potter's body, and the distinct bulge that Potter pressed up against Draco's arse. He rubbed against Draco and moaned in his ear, licking it with a wet tongue.

Draco shuddered. It was dark and he couldn't see a thing, but nonetheless, Draco squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He hoped that closing his eyes would somehow make it stop, but as with all his hopes lately, this one was dashed. Potter rubbed against Draco again, his hand groping. Potter was turning Draco round and climbing on top, before Draco could fend him off. In the dark, Draco opened his eyes. He still couldn't see. Not that it mattered.

"I know you want this," Potter mumbled as he crushed their mouths together and pushed his tongue past Draco's lips. Draco didn't even bother to struggle. He wrapped his arms round Potter's neck and gingerly kissed Potter. His body felt on fire and the feel of their erections rubbing together even through fabric sent thrills through him. They tore at each other's clothes, tossing them aside as they went. Then Potter was flipping Draco on his stomach and licking down his back. His rough caresses moved from his shoulders to his back then finally down to his arse, hands spreading his cheeks wide as Potter licked and thrust with his tongue.

Draco cried out with pleasure, shocked at the wonderful feel of something so dirty. Potter plunged his tongue in over and over with each startled cry from Draco, and sped up his thrusts when Draco cried out his name.

Then suddenly Potter was gone, but that lasted only a moment. Draco whimpered. His own hard length was trapped underneath him, friction from his movements sending delicious thrills through him. He wanted to grab hold and wank, but Potter had other plans.

"Lumos," Potter muttered. Draco jumped at the sudden light above him. His heart was pounding in his chest as he tried to turn his body round. Still pinned under Potter, he could barely move enough to see that Potter was holding his wand just above Draco, leering down at him. "You make a rather pretty sight," Potter drawled.

He put his wand down on the small bedside table, the light barely illuminating the room. There was just enough to see that Potter wasn't wearing his glasses and his chest glistened with perspiration. His wet lips curved in a knowing smile.

"I want to see you when I shag you," he said as he lowered his head to kiss Draco on the lips again. His mouth tasted different, like sex. Draco kept his eyes open as he hungrily kissed Potter.

Potter broke the kiss, and pulled Draco up onto his hands and knees. With one hand, he caressed Draco's naked arse. Then moments later there was the cold feeling of lubricated fingers pushing into Draco. Potter thrust in and out with rough, urgent strokes, but they were quickly withdrawn to be replaced by the tip of Potter's cock. Draco cried out as Potter pushed without allowing Draco to adjust to the thickness. Pain shot through him and Potter gripped his hips tightly, pulling out and then thrusting back in. The bed rocked beneath them.

Potter gripped Draco more tightly with each push. The sensation of being filled again and again overwhelmed Draco to the point that his vision blurred. Dim light swam before his eyes, and a hand touched his cock. Draco was jerked and fucked until he came screaming with Potter buried deep inside. There were grunts and moans from Potter as he thrust a few more times before his own release finally overtook him.

The room was filled with the sounds of their combined panting. Draco collapsed onto the mattress, uncaring of the wetness from his orgasm. Potter pulled him in close, kissing him on the mouth, their legs and arms in a tangle. Potter reached up and brushed at Draco's damp hair. The room was hot now and the scent of their sex filled Draco's nostrils.

"All you needed was a decent shag," Potter whispered into Draco's ear. He licked at the shell lazily and purred. "Say you adore me."

Hearing those words sent a shock through Draco's body, but he didn't hesitate to repeat the words. It was true. Draco now knew he would do just about anything for Harry Potter and that knowledge terrified him to his deepest core.

A crashing sound coming from the outer room cut Draco short. Potter slid his glasses on and reached for his wand, but it was too late. The bedroom door flew open and hit the wall as shadowy figures fill the doorway.

"Lumos," several voices said at once and the room was filled with light. Potter had scrambled to put himself between Draco and the door, his wand raised at the ready. He stopped short at the sight of Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan.

The rage in Weasley's eyes grew. "This is why you quit your job?" he yelled at Potter.

 

**13\. The Final Chapter**

There was silence. The only noise that could be heard in the cramped room was the pounding of Draco's heart. They'd left the bedroom. At first, Weasley had insisted on staying in the room with them, but Potter had managed to change his mind when he'd stood up, starkers and bent over to retrieve his trousers. Weasley had got one good look at his friend's arse and had tripped over his own feet to get out of the room. Draco would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so dire. He got dressed as quickly as possible and watched as Potter stomped out of the room without one word to Draco.

The shouting had started right off. Draco had been too afraid, though he'd never admit that was what he was feeling, to go out and face all those people. They had never been his friends and Draco was sure that they'd all be glad to see him on the receiving end of Avada Kedavra.

The shouting stopped. Draco stood and cautiously walked to the closed bedroom doorway. This was maddening. If they were going to do something he wished they would get it over with. No sense prolonging whatever fate the weasel and his malcontents had deemed worthy of a Malfoy. Just as he reached for the door knob, the door opened, almost hitting Draco. Potter stood before him, his shoulders slumped and a look of resignation on his face. He stepped aside and wordlessly motioned for Draco to walk past him. When Draco wouldn't move, Potter gently nudged him out into the outer room, before the glares of Weasley and his cohorts. There were five in total. Draco knew most of them. They stood, all in dark robes, hatred in their eyes. It felt like another Ministry inquisition. A chair had been placed in the middle of the room and Weasley stood right behind it.

"Sit," Weasley ordered with his arms folded in front of his chest. Draco looked to Potter who had moved to stand beside him. It looked as though he was going to completely throw Draco to the wolves, but why weren't they chaining him and apparating him back to Azkaban? It seemed he would get his answer. Potter took a step back from him.

"We should have done this right from the get go," Neville Longbottom muttered vehemently. Weasley and Longbottom moved to stand across from the chair.

"I said we'd do this if he agreed," Potter spat out. He moved to stand behind the chair and motioned for Draco to sit. There was nothing to it. Draco complied. He sat with his hands in his lap and his legs together in an attempt to take up the least space possible. Weasley stood before him with venom in his eyes. No doubt to him, it seemed that Draco had corrupted his friend, and been the one to lead Potter down this vile path. If only he knew.

"He'd better agree or it's back to Azkaban for him," Weasley said as though Draco weren't sitting right there in front of him. He produced a small potion bottle and held it up. Draco could see that the liquid in the bottle was clear. In his original trial, the Ministry had concluded that there was not enough just cause to use Veritaserum. When Draco failed to hide his shock and fear, Weasley smiled smugly down at him as though he'd won some contest.

"I'll agree," Draco said, breaking the long silence that had built in the room. He could feel the tension growing with each moment and resisted the urge to flinch at the sound of cracking knuckles.

"You're a bloody fool," Weasley sneered. "You don't even know what we're asking of you. For all you know, we could be asking that you slit your own throat." He bent at these final words, invading Draco's personal space.

Defiant as always, Draco snapped up the potion bottle, unstopped the stopper, and tilted his head up to place three drops of the dangerous juice on his tongue. He swallowed and sneered up at Weasley.

"You'll regret this, Weasel," he snarled, deliberately using the hated moniker. Weasley's face twisted in anger, looking uglier than usual. He almost laughed when Weasley had to be held back by two of his friends.

Draco didn't care because he could already feel the potion taking hold. He could feel the truth bubbling up inside, wanting to get out, but he daren't speak it unless he had to. At least there was that.

When everyone had calmed down, Potter put himself between Draco and the other boys who stood on the other side of the room. Weasley glared daggers at him, as Longbottom held him at bay.

"Ask him while we can," Longbottom said. Draco sneered and folded his arms across his chest, sticking his nose in the air.

"What happened that day on the field?" Potter said. Draco turned, startled that it was Potter who was to interrogate him.

"People died," Draco blurted. It was the truth.

Potter shook his head. Weasley took a step forward. Longbottom stopped him from getting closer.

"What happened to Hermione Granger," Weasley shouted. "Why is she so mental?"

Draco resisted the pull of the truth. He clamped his mouth shut. He tried not to touch those words, but they pushed and pulled and when his mouth opened, his heart races with each syllable spoken.

"She was taken by force by Death Eaters. She was raped again and again and I made her forget that. I made her forget," Draco shouted the last part, jumping up from his seat and lunging at Weasley with clawed hands. Too stunned by his words, no one stopped him. Weasley fell from the impact as Draco clawed at his face and shoulders, screaming the words again and again. "I tried to stop them. I tried to help her. I tried to save her and they killed my father for it."

Draco was dragged from Weasley kicking and screaming. He stopped shouting when Potter pulled him to his feet and placed a finger on Draco's lips to silence him.

"I didn't hurt your precious Granger," Draco muttered. Weasley stood with his head lowered and his eyes narrowed at Draco.

"Foul liar," Weasley shouted. His face was red with anger, and he clenched his hands into fists. Draco could see tears start to brim in his eyes. Longbottom held his arm.

"Ron," Potter spun to look at Weasley, empathy in his eyes. "He couldn't have lied if he'd wanted to and he did want to, otherwise he'd have told long ago what really happened that day."

Weasley looked up, the tears now spilling down his cheeks.

"I hope you got the answers you were looking for, Ron," Potter said. Weasley looked anything but happy. He looked more stunned and horrified by the minute. Draco swallowed back his own bitter tears.

Potter placed a hand on Draco's chest and turned his gaze from Weasley to look Draco in the eye.

"It's true, Potter," Draco said before he could be asked a direct question. "I wish you hadn't asked. I wish you'd let it be," he said to Weasley. He didn't want anymore questions. Wasn't this enough? What more could they want, details? He hoped not, because having to live with what he'd seen was bad enough.

Potter nodded and turned back to Weasley and his cohorts. "You've got your answers. If you wish to report him..." Potter paused and glanced at Draco. "If you wish to report us to the Ministry of Magic go ahead. I won't stop you, but I won't allow you to take Malfoy."

Weasley stood silent with his head bowed, all eyes on him. The time dragged as he seemed to ponder the floorboards. Longbottom tugged on Weasley's sleeve like some pet and Draco almost burst out laughing at the sudden absurd thought of Weasley keeping the git on a leash or in a cage. He turned away and bent his head to avoid eye contact, afraid he'd laugh out loud.

"We should go," Longbottom mumbled. There was shuffling of feet and Potter moved from Draco's side. When Draco looked up, he was alone. They had all left. Convinced they would return any at any moment, Draco stayed rooted to the spot, watching the doorway. When nothing happened, he lowered himself to the chair, the sudden realisation that it might all be over hitting him like a ton of bricks.

The front door slammed shut and Draco jumped up at the sound. He was surprised to see Potter walk back into the room. Potter looked lost in thought.

"They're gone," Potter said, advancing on Draco who backed away with each step until he bumped against the wall. Potter leaned in close until they were nose to nose. Potter reached up and caressed Draco's cheek. "Where were we?"

"Asleep," Draco said with a gulp.

Potter lunged and mashed his mouth to Draco's, thrusting his tongue in past Draco's parted lips. He crushed Draco up against the wall with his body. Draco pushed him off.

"What about what just happened?" Draco asked. He could still feel the potion working. Potter could ask him anything at this point. "Don't you want to know more? Don't you want the details?"

"No, Malfoy," Potter said slowly shaking his head. "It's done."

End


End file.
